I Will Build a Fortress...

...around your heart.

It's the first holiday heartbreak for the Bird. Late Sunday afternoon she started coughing, one of those tickling, trickling, wet coughs. I dosed her up with meds to make sure she didn't keep herself up all night, and she did sleep. But Monday morning found her still hacking and snotty besides. I made her stay home from her pre-school Halloween party. Can you say devastation? These things hurt like a beast, I remember.

I remember being sick for Christmas, being deemed too young to go trick-or-treating with my older brother and sisters, I remember moving away from friends.

Birdie remembers too. As a matter of fact, she has a very scary memory. She will tell you about the time that we "petted the kitty on the porch and it rained and we went inside but the kitty couldn't come 'cause kitties make daddy sicksicksick!" This happened when she was nineteen months old. Yesterday we were washing dishes when the sink backed up a little. As I was putting the Draino in the sink Birdie inspected the sink full of cruddy water and said, "this is like the time Grammy made potatoes!" Referring to a year ago when my Mom came to stay with us to help with Pearl when she was born. For some reason my Mom was unable to infer that while I told her yes, she could send the potato peels down the disposal.... I meant just a few and not the whole caboodle. Sure, that was just a year ago, but she makes these connections and has this memory and she KNOWS!

She knew she was missing her Halloween party that she had been waiting for ever since the pre-school calender came home in her backpack in late September. She remembers that I told her she couldn't invite her friend Jayden from school, to her party last Thursday, because she would be able to have a party with her at school. She remembers the treat bags that we put together for her classmates last Saturday. She listed off the names of her school friends to me as she held up a finger for each new name. Holding up her two hands with nine fingers up she said "these are my school friends, I have this many friends!"

As she sobbed Yesterday morning I could only hold her and sympathise. When she got to a place where she could, we went and did all the cool things I remember my Mom doing on sick days and rainy days.... let her watch all the TV she wanted, drink all the juice she could stand, and build a fort out of sheets and blankets in the front room.

Wheeee!

This morning was the Halloween party , only, since it rained and SNOWED like a bugger yesterday, it was too soggy to have in the back yard. Plan B, have it at the church.


There were kids and costumes, games, fun and treats. I asked everyone to try and keep the more overt sugar to a minimum, they came through with flying colors. Other than the fact that this was my brainchild and I organised it... I had to do very little to prepare.

Tried a new pumpkin spice cake recipe.

Designed a bean-bag toss game out of a hunk of wood we had mouldering in the garage.... scammed the neighbor into cutting out the holes.

...and scammed my buddy into painting the sucker. It's already booked solid for classroom parties. My original plan was to paint it up in a more cartoony, Dio de las Muertas style. Not only did I score some kickin' free artwork, but it's wayyy more scary and fun! Glad I ran outta time!

Blogaversary

Fine... I decided to get official about the NaBloPoMo (I'm on the listee-doo-dah and everything) and ever since then I have been all het up and posting more than usual. Go figure... just when I should be hoarding my material! I wasn't gonna post today because I don't want to blow all of my energy before November even starts, but today is the one year blogaversary of my very first post. Gotta say something!

I am so proud of myself. No joke, I'm proud. I am finally doing something about writing, I am finally getting down those precious moments with the girls, I will have a record of the fact that LaLa pronounces the word "more" as "mon." I have a record that my brain still functions. You can't pay money for this kind of stuff.

Speaking of $$, however....

My blog is worth $73,954.74.
How much is your blog worth?

HaHa! Whatever.

Sincerely.... if any one wants to buy my blog I'm FOR SALE! Last night, as I dozed off I even figured out about how much cash I would have to play with if someone did offer me that kinda scratch for my humble bloggity. I didn't know what the tax would be on the sale of a blog, so I just whacked a third off of the font end of the sum along with the tithing. I was really tired so Dadguy did the math for me snickering as he did so. Still, in my imagination I was still left with a fun amount of money to play with. Yup, I would so sell out!

* Edited to add: Before anyone gets too impressed with the dollar figure for this here bloggy, I suspect that the shockingly high sum the calculator claims this blog is worth has been queered by a glitch that has happened between google and I. Last year I linked to an image of some buxom Valkyries riding through the orange, Frazetta sky. At some point my blog came to be the second google result when a searcher enters "Valkyries" in the "images" section. I took the link and the mention out of my blog a couple of months ago, but the glitch remains. I don't dare link to it again, as it is it plays merry hoo-dah with my statcounter. Although the link says runewebvitkey... it sends you to my archives, feel free to check it out on your own.

Happy HalloWEEEEE!

We love Halloween around here! Dadguy loves it, I love it and so it's a no-brainer that the Crash girls (formerly known as "Chaos") would love it.

Reasons to Love Halloween

• Candy
• Stay up late
• Dress-ups
• Spooky stuff
• Run around knocking on doors
• Yelling "Trick or Treat!"
• Getting treats
• Yelling Happy Halloween!
• Pumpkins
• Carving Jack-o-Lanterns
• Punkin Patches

I could go on and on, you get the picture. In our neighborhood there is a tradition of "Phantom" treats. It's like a meme with refined sugar. It starts with a knock on your door, and when you open the door there is nothing but a goody of some sort on your step. The treat is accompanied with a picture of a phantom or ghostie of one description or another and an instruction sheet that informs you that you are to post the pic on you front window or door, and then deliver a goody with pic and instructions to three other neighbors whose homes are phantomless.

This works great if you have a copier, fax machine or otherwise in your home. If you are low-tech or just plain slow-tech then you run the risk of getting nailed twice. Twice the yummies you say? Sure... only NOW you gotta get six other homes! This year makes twice in a row that we have gotten phantomed twice within a few hour span. Ai-yi-yi! So we slapped one of the phantoms up in our window and the next day hit the copy shop and dollar store.

Have you ever tried to be sneaky with a four year old, two year old and baby in a stroller? The proper term is "less effective." This year we thought we'd just give in to inevitability and just dress the kiddos up and have them ring the door and hand over the prize. LaLa had hold of the cheapy voice distorter with the skew set to "Alien," which serves to make her already high pitched voice even higher and slightly wavery. This was the sound track to our deliveries...

"Happy HalloWEEEEE! Happy HalloWEEEEE! Happy HalloWEEEEE! Happy HalloWEEEEE! Happy HalloWEEEEE! Happy HalloWEEEEE! Happy HalloWEEEEE! Happy HalloWEEEEE! Happy HalloWEEEEE! Happy HalloWEEEEE!"

I may have bled from my eyes a little.

It was a pretty fun time, but we won't be doing it that way again... I'm pretty sure that at least two of the neighbors didn't come to the door 'cause they thought we were early trick or treaters!

I think that night was the first night that we heard the phrase "Goody goody GOSH!." Which, when it comes out of LaLa's mouth sounds more like "Doody doody DOSH!" They did NOT get this one from me, so shut it!

Dude!

This morning I decided that I needed a kick in the pants so I loaded the kiddos in the van and set off for the local convenience store. Must. Have. Soda-drink-treat. In order to get darn near anywhere around these parts you have to take a certain road that has been closed off for modifications and repairs for the past ever-blessed month. Still closed. We had to take the long way around again and got stuck waiting forever in a line to get onto the very busy and very fast road (60mph). Our turn came and the schmuck across the way decided that, turn taking be darned... HE was gonna go.

He almost hit us and I yelled, "Dude! Geeez!"
Birdie instantly piped up, "Mama, why did you yell 'Dude, Geeeze!'?"
I explained about the near collision, and that I was upset that the man had not waited for his turn. It's important to take turns (whadda mom, huh?).
Silence from the back for thirty seconds.
"Mama, if we get in a weck our car will be dead and smashed, huh?"
"Yes, probably."
"If you weck into another car do they both smash and weck?"
"Yeah."
"If two cars smash then it's a tie weck, wight?"
"Huh?"
"A tie. It's a tie weck."
The mirth starts bubbling and I'm no longer pissed at the dude who almost "wecked" us. "Do you mean a tie like a tied race?"
"Yeah, it's a tie!"
I'm giggling as I pull into the parking lot.
Birdie is quiet for about ten seconds then pipes up again..." A tie weck is a dinosaur too, wight?"

I'm still laughing about that one! I cannot even transcribe the conversation that started with..."A Dude is a penguin, wight?"

This, That and the Other

THIS: Did you know that I have never ridden on a real and for actual train? I hadn't ever given it much thought either... I've ridden trainesque rides at Disneyland, zoo's, Lagoon and the like but never on a plain old train. Tomorrow I will be singing a different tune as tonite we head out for the Heber Creeper, an historic train that goes from Provo to Heber. Around Christmas they do a "Polar Express" ride for the kiddies, there are murder mystery rides one can take in the summer... but in October the ride becomes the "Heebie Creepie," a haunted train ride.

We like us some spooky!

THAT:I'm toying with the idea of hopping on the Fussy bandwagon for some NaBloPoMo, and marry it to what Momofalltrades is doing... Alphabetical topic posts. Do this, I think I shall. It's not official... but my finger is hovering over the sign-up button.


THE OTHER: The names have all changed. This morning while swinging at the Park, Birdie informed me the her new, new name is Dizzy-top Crash and from there on out she was to be referred to as such. Three hours later it is all forgotten and that's fine by me because she gave us all new names and I didn't like mine. I think it didn't have the same panache as the rest. LaLa was renamed Swingy-top Crash, Pearl dubbed Shibby-top Crash and Dadguy was given the spiffy moniker of Gunshooter Crash. Me, I am just Bonnie-top Crash. I know I shouldn't complain. I mean, hey! At least she knows that I have a real live people name... it coulda been Mama-top Crash. LaLa for one wouldn't stand for it though. She insisted repeatedly at top volume that "I Annabell Baby Cow!" Birdie quite affably agreed to it and slapped a Crash at the end.... we are the "Crash Family" after all!

I think I'm gonna insist that everyone start calling me "Sexyblogger-top Crash." What's your name?

Angelcup, Flowertop and Ninja

Don't mess with me! I got friends who'll kick yer pa-tootie, and HOW! Seriously you gotta check out Elizasmom... she is a second degree black belt in Karate and a former instructor in said art. Read these two posts on the femininity of Karate... it'll make you think. Reminds me that my favorite form of exercise other than walking is Tae Bo.

Don't forget the ever lovely and gracious Mama D and her Tai Kwon Do. She has a YouTube of why you really ought not mess with her, so make sure you scroll down that post and check her out!

The Dread Pirate Rackham when not sporting two broken wings, is a force to be reckoned with. She is a woman of Iron, and though she is quite a bit shorter than I... I wouldn't want to take her on even when I was in my best shape. She has been training and competing in Triathlons.

Last, but not least is the martial arts stylin' of my oldest. Yesterday she renamed the whole batch of Chaos Girls. Pearl is now my own sweet Angelcup. LaLa is a lovely Flowertop, and Birdie now calls herself Ninja.

I am so proud!

random note... LaLa mastered cutting with scissors a month ago... did I tell you she can count to ten?

Baseline

There was barely any love left between them... there was barely any of HER left after this marriage of attrition. The drugs, the manipulations and the names that he called her reduced her heart and the amount of space her will took up in soul. By the time he would start in with the beatings there was so very little left it always surprised her that she would fight back. As far as she could determine her defence of her body was no more than an involuntary function, like breathing. She was dying and the final dance began on New Years Eve, the last day of 1996.

He had finished the previous semester right before Christmas, his triumph being the "A" he had received for his final project in Creative Writing. His professor had been deeply impressed by the short story he had written, had touted it as troubling and inspired.

She had read it with it's large, printed "A" at the top and the effusions of the prof on the cover page. She found the story more than "troubling," she was terrified. The story told how he was going to kill her. It detailed why, and the why was the most horrifying of all. Still, she did not leave.

Over Christmas the torture stepped up. Sleep deprivation techniques, kidney punches, black eyes, bruises shaped like fingers around her neck. December 30th he rampaged through the house breaking mirrors and glass, smashed the telephone into shards of plastic. He got out his 22 rifle and shoved it in her face, she watched him silently and cried. She cried for the broken mirror, couldn't understand why he always broke all her nice things. When he put the barrel of the gun in his own mouth she walked out the front door wishing, just wishing that he would.

Pull the trigger.

She slept on a friend's couch and the next morning he found her and took her home. That night was New Year's Eve and she drank the entire bottle of good champagne they had received for Christmas. He loved her when she was drunk, and they rang in the new year peacefully. So peacefully. So much peace.

Seven days passed, seven nights and seven bottles of cheap champagne (he was not made of money dammit) and the peace ended with a fresh assault on her face. A new black eye, split lip and a swelling purple blush on her left cheekbone. To this day she could not tell you why, maybe it was the backhand that did it; woke her up. Later that night, the seventh night, she washed the tears from her face and inspected the damage in the bathroom mirror. It wasn't the worst she'd gotten but there was something cold in her eye as she looked at the wreckage. There was something cold in her heart as she asked her reflection what she was waiting for.

"Are you waiting 'till you get knocked up and have kids for him to beat around? Will you give yourself permission to leave when he starts hitting the baby? Do you want to be tied to this SOB forever? Do you want your babies to be tied to him forever?"

She touches her empty belly, the one that he calls barren and she thanks God for birth control pills. Touches that belly and out loud tells her unborn children that she is sorry, she was wrong... that man in there passed out on the bed is not their father. Will never be their father, and she walks out the door. This time she walks all the way out that door.

The things this woman has learned you cannot imagine, cannot guess at and ought not second guess.

It has been almost ten years and "she" has turned into me. My "barren" womb has been shelter and nourishment for three sweet girls. They are the daughters of Dadguy, my true love... my happily ever after.

Yesterday someone tried to tell me how to "plan my family" or maybe "how not to" as it were. Granted, I was trying to be funny and make light of my temptation to have my next (and last) baby sooner rather than later. My absurd stated reasoning was so that I could just double up on the diapering rather than spread it out over the course of more years. Fine. I don't plan on getting pregs tomorrow just for the convenience of buying diapers in bulk... but what if i DO plan on getting pregnant for other reasons? What of it? What on earth makes you think you have the right to "should" on me, or anybody for that matter?

Please, not even my physician presumes to advise me in this area and I pay him good money to advise me.

It's rampant, this "my way or the highway" thinking. I do it too, but crap all over it! I try not to get in other people's faces with it.

And I recognise that it is wrong. I see that it is one of my more unattractive habits.

A few days ago I noticed that one of the parenting sites that I receive a weekly e-update from had a comment thread that was kicked off with a question that went something like "Do you think that Britney Spears is having her kids too close together?" The HUH? I just had to check and see if anyone was biting, and sweet pickle relish some of the stuff folks felt comfortable saying about this gal and her procreating style. I could only assume these were mostly moms making these comments, it was a parenting site after all... therefore it was double shocking to me. Liberally peppered in the mix were more moderate voices saying things like "well, I wouldn't do it... but it doesn't make it wrong," and "everyone is different." A few folks even picked up on the fact that the woman doesn't have to even make herself a cheese sandwich, scrub a toilet or wash a dish. She has a nanny and can take a shower any time she pleases... she can go on big old dream vacations. Her life? It's nothing like my life. I don't think she does her own grocery shopping let alone ever finds herself schlepping her screaming meemie progeny around the local Super Walmart. Exactly where is the baseline to judge from? Then there were the comments that went along the lines of "I think it's cruel to the children to wait too long in between, how lonely, how SAD!"

... where is the baseline for these kinds of judgement on anyone?

I think I may need a break, so I'm going on an a "retreat" with my church women's group tonight. Who am I kidding... I'd be going even if I didn't "need a break." It's just an overnighter in some cabins up in Heber and I can only assume it'll be cold. Very cold! But it is as Dadguy says... it's a slumber party for moms, and I could really use a slumber party.

Frolicking

Sigh...
Just for starters, I'd like to state for the record that not only am I not pregnant... I do not plan to get pregnant any time soon. Glad to have that out of the way aren't you? Plus, for those of you who are curious...I am not a moron. Back to your regularly scheduled blogging.

My little sis has requested more pictures, aren't ya'll the lucky ones? So here goes... the trip to the punkin' patch this morning with a slew of cousins.
Ummm.... I didn't get much, and nobody held still for very long.


But I really like this picture.

Just Checking

I just Picked up Picasa, a free photo editor... it has a Blog This option actually IN the editor. Taking it for a test run, so far me likey!

 

Random Chaos

Occasionally we do stuff amidst the Chaos....

It adds to the overall Chaos, but no one around here seems to mind much.

As a matter of fact... sometimes we dress up for it. Who am I kidding? We ALWAYS dress up for it, but lately we have expanded our options by getting into the Halloween Box.

We made a few decorations...

...and I am working on a new quilt for the Pearly girly.

I Think I Need A TiVo

... and I never thought that I would say such a thing.

Have y'all been to the movie store lately? There doesn't seem to be much on the "new release" wall that seems good to watch, and I ain't all that picky. Dadguy? HE'S picky! He likes action, but if it doesn't have a killer plot, he doesn't really have time for it. Here is the kicker though... we don't watch rated "R" movies, and we are careful in our selection of PG-13. Yeah, yeah... I know that there are a number of high quality movies out there that are rated "R"... I know that if the Bible were to be made into a movie, it would almost HAVE to be "R". Whatever. There are a number of reasons why we have made this choice, and though some times it is tempting to deviate from it, we don't. I firmly believe that as a couple and as a family we have been blessed by this decision, but sometimes the title choices that are left... well frankly? they STINK!

Used to be there were a couple of places around that offered "R" movies that had been edited, and that way we got to see a few flicks that were pretty good and mostly coherent even in snipped form. Enter The Director's Guild of America, and I have been denied my dubious enjoyment of the second in the Underworld tale. Bummer. I'm not getting all political and certainly am not prepared to start making comments on slashdot threads... I'm just a little pissed off that these movie makers don't want my money. Seriously, they told me they don't want my money unless I agree to watch every last iota of whatever filth and nonny-words they feel is necessary to tell their story. I wish they wouldn't take themselves so piffling seriously, especially when it means... I don't get to give them my money.

We have these kids, see.... three of them that are very- active. There is no watching of the boob tube when they are up, plus I ain't gonna be watching, well, much of anything that prime time has to offer when the girls can see it too. Maybe 7th Heaven and the like. There are whole sections of TV land that neither the Dadguy nor I have imbibed in... and I hear good things about some of the shows in the past five years or so, but even if we were to go out and get us a TiVo today, we would be hopelessly lost noobies.

The Solution.

This started with my sister Shelly's great love of David Duchovny...er... that is, I mean X-files! She started getting each season as her birthday's, Christmas and Mother's Day allowed. She would watch them and then she would loan them to us! Heavenly day! Now that the X-files have run out, we have moved on the purchase our own season's of Law and Order, and Firefly. Then last week, on a whim... I rented the first disc of the first season of "24." Yikes! I couldn't catch my breath the hits just kept coming. I conned Dadguy into watching them with me... and by tonite (a little over one week from the start) we will have watched the entire first season of "24." This has been done at the expense of sleep. So be it, it's like dating all over again and I LOVE IT! We have had a ton of fun and there are still three more seasons on DVD to go... hope we can pace ourselves a little better.

Saturday night we got a sitter and headed out to watch as much "24" as we could in one evening at Dadguy's work. In the conference room they have a projector set up, so we just hooked up his work laptop to it, and viola! We stopped by the movie store to pick up the next two disc's but the spot for disc 4 was empty... ARRGH! I asked at the desk what was up, as all the other discs in that season had three to four copies set out. Turns out that some loser had come and rented their only copy of that disc the day before. I came out empty handed and we decided that if we had to we would stop at another video store on our way home from our date and get the disc. We had in hand an entire disc of four episodes to get through and had to go buy Dadguy some new shoes before we could even do that. Then I looked closer at the disc we had. Yeah... I was the loser with disc 4. I was SOoooooo glad there was a new chick at the counter when I went in for disc 5.

It's a Dead Man's Party

Those are flowers stuffed in his neck bones (echinacea), ribcage(petunias) and pelivis(lavender).

We are starting to gear up for Halloween around the House of Chaos. The eyeliner has already been employed in the service of "kitty faces," Skellington Jack has been smooched repeatedly as well as decorated. The pumpkin lights are strung, and the costumes repeatedly rummaged through. We are gonna have a Halloween Party for the kiddo's the thursday morning before the big "H" and I am thinking about games. Here's what I've got so far...

I have made some beanbags out of festive fabric and I'm planning on cutting out and painting a board to look like a ghost with holes for eyes and mouth to throw the bags into. Maybe a skull. Or a Jack-o-lantern. Hmmm.

Gonna have a fishing pond ("fishing poles" with clothes pins on the ends of the line tossedto a person behind a blanket...who sticks a treat on)

Candy corn drop... try to get them to land in a small glass.

Bobbing for apples.

Pin the Wart on the Witch's Face.

Toss the rings onto the punkin stems.

Make and decorate paper plate masks.

Treat bags.

Scary music

I think that should do the job, don't you? Am I missing any important Halloween games? I'm thinking no more than 10 kids. Too ambitious? Gaghk! I'm a fool.

Yeah... too much. Which games should I do? which do I ditch?

Birdie drew a lovely portrait of her new spider, enjoy!

Hello LaLa!

LaLa knows her colors. Actually she has known them for months, but I am telling you about it now. It is sad really that the second child's milestones are not celebrated and oogled over like the first child's. You promise yourself that it won't happen... but it does.

Not to give you the idea that LaLa is getting short shrift attention wise, frankly her bigger-than-life self would never allow that sort of business. She lives her life with gusto, passion and lots of shrieking. No, she is simply not subject to the bright light scrutiny that Birdie was, and maybe that's for the best. Birdie survived in large part because of her happy obliviousness. Bless that girl.

All of the "first child/second child" typical things that you say you will never do? Well, ya do 'em. Sure, maybe you are waaay cooler than me and are 100% pro-active vive la difference! Maybe. But it's like how you say you will never be anything like your parents... and then you have a kid and hello MOM! You can make a few minor improvements, occasionally an individual can make a complete break from the way the parentals were, but supposing your folks did a reasonable job you will find yourself fighting becoming them. And you will lose that fight on a lot of levels. Face it, this is not a bad thing... sometimes these inevitability's are the grease on the cogs that keep it all going.

Yesterday LaLa was inspecting the teeny Hello Kitty flashlight that we gave to her last Christmas. The flashlight was just the perfect stocking stuffer size, it was pink and white, runs on one AA battery and looked durable. The fact that it is still around for her to inspect in October verifies that it is more than durable, and makes me grateful that the Chaos Girls do not have access to Kryptonite. The Hello Kitty face on the barrel of the flashlight means nothing to the girls, they don't know HK from Adam, so my guess is that she was trying to figure who that was. She must have had herself an epiphany because she brightened and said...

"Mama! It a Twah-bewwy Shoatcake Moushie!" (Strawberry Shortcake... a character she DOES know)

Last week I killed a grasshopper in the garage. Having given it a good solid wallop I turned away to get Pearl strapped in her stroller for a walk. After a minute I realized that LaLa had been stomping that hopper corpse into the concrete ever since I left off. I told her she could stop and stepped into the house to get a binkey but the carnage was still going when I got back. She kept on "Tiw-ing dat dwathh-hoppa" till we rolled away on our walk. She is an implacable enemy. Warrior. She is certain death to any black cricket, spider or grasshopper slow enough to fall under her heel. She is the Terminator of the buggy world. Except for slugs and ants... oh, she kills them too, but it's the death that Bugs Bunny feared at the hands of the abominable snowman.

"I will hug him and love him and name him George!" LaLa loves her some "Tluggie-th."

Lizards

Hmmm, well where have I been? There are so many little tales from the Chaos that I have flagged in my memory as "must blog."

I have forgotten almost all of them... all I have in my memory banks are a bunch of teeny waving flags to drive me crazy.
*****************************************************************

Here is the little I remember. Driving down the road, Birdie is strapped in her booster thinking about Christmas. She has recently seen Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and has a few questions.

"Mama, have you ever been to the North Pole?"
"No," I reply. I wonder where this is going, am a little uncomfortable. My folks never raised me to believe in Santa but Dadguy assures me it's a magical happy thing and totally will not bite us in the butt later on. I am going on faith here.
"Has anyone ever been to the North Pole?" she continues.
"Sure, lots of people have."
Silence from the back seat, I think we're done.
"Mama?"
"Yes."
"Does Santa Clause know every bodie's name?" There is an odd pleading note in her voice.
"Yes, he knows every one's name. Why?"
pause
"Does Santa know my name?"
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I am totally NOT GLUTEN SENSITIVE. Yeah, um... all that "poor me" whining crap? Gratuitous and misplaced because I was still pretty much sick, and after about a month meticulous eating (except for the trip to Flagstaff) and I should have seen a difference in my... mmmm... problems.

I started eating like a normal person last Wednesday. I am now feeling better. HA!
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Completely pissy about every one's fashion-superior attitude about the clothing of yesteryear. NEWSFLASH people, the crap you are wearing today will be trashed as "loserclothing" by the fashion savvy in ten years. Get over it.
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Pissy attitude is likely due to unexpected waking of youngest and oldest at six in the vile AM.
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Entire family is really enjoying the Pinball machine.
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Let's go hunting for the rare and dangerous Rock Lizard. The natural habitat for these unusual and shy beast's is in northern parts of Mama's Room.








*Edited to add.... It's hard to se in the pictures, but there are two wee lizard footprints drawn in ballpoint pen on each piece of paper.